TOMORROW NEVER KNOWS,
by Roger Fritz, 5-22-00
Wilbur knows what will happen tomorrow.
Tomorrow when the weather is nice, Wilbur will go for a walk around the block. When he comes out the front door of his apartment building, he will turn left. Ms. Kitty, a neighbor, will be struggling to get her baby's carriage out onto the sidewalk, and he will stop to help her. As he waves goodbye, he will pull the stroller's rain-hood up over her baby.
He will turn left at the corner. A couple will be standing by Harry's flower stand, the man handing a bouquet to the woman. Wilbur will swivel as he walks past them and give them both a hearty shove. They will go down in a tangle on the street, just as a van careening out of control will hurtle through the spot they were standing and embed itself in masses of flowers.
Wilbur will leave Harry screaming at the ruin and walk on down the street. He will take a left at the next corner. He will shout at a business man walking along ahead of him. The man will stop and turn, just as a TV set dislodged from Mr. Hennesy's fourth-floor window by Mr. Hennesy's elbow will smash into the sidewalk, one step ahead of the flabbergasted business man.
Wilbur will leave the business man looking confused, and turn left at the next corner. A soccer ball will bounce out of a door ahead of him, across the sidewalk and into the street. Wilbur will trip the boy who runs out the door after it and send him sprawling, just as a car in the street runs over the soccer ball.
Wilbur will help the boy up and dust him off, and take a left at the next corner. As he approaches his apartment building, he will look up at the sky and put out a hand, feeling the first raindrops starting to fall.
Wilbur doesn't care about tomorrow. It's yesterday that he looks forward to.